


And a Real Hero

by asuralucier



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Rare Male Slash Exchange 2019, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-07-27 05:10:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20040448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asuralucier/pseuds/asuralucier
Summary: The sunny kingdom of Arendelle is frozen and the future Queen is missing. Prince Hans of the Southern Isles is determined to play the hero and rescue Elsa from the weird ice castle up in the mountains and become King of Arendelle.Problem is, he’s not terribly good at it.Meanwhile, Kristoff needs a new job. He’s not a great bodyguard, but a guy can’t exactly make a living selling ice in this weather…Also like there’s this talking snowman who really wants them to kiss.





	And a Real Hero

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RomanticPrincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanticPrincess/gifts).

> Your prompt about Hans not being a very good hero was such an inspiration. I hope you enjoy this!

Hans sneezed, and tiny ice crystals gathered in his gloved hands and almost pierced his skin. It was very cold. 

“How are you used to this?” he complained. 

“I’m not really,” said his companion, poking at a begrudging fire with a stick. 

Well, the guy wasn’t exactly Hans’s companion. The whole point of this rescue mission was to prove that he had it in him, that he could do this thing, scale up the side of the mountain and defeat whatever needed defeating, marry the Queen, becoming King of Arendelle, and then all of his brothers could shove it. He had this all mapped out. The fact that the plan wasn’t cooperating outside of his head was just a little annoying. Hans could admit it to himself now, that he didn't really want to be a hero, but he wanted to be King.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Hans. He wrapped his coat tighter around himself. 

“It means,” Kristoff sucked in a deep breath. “I only harvest ice several hours a day. I’m not this cold _all the time_. You know, for a prince you’re not that smart.” 

Hans sniffled - sniffed, and took offense. “I am _too_. You know, you can get done in for speaking to royalty this way. You know, where I’m from, you can get thrown in jail for libel.” 

Kristoff looked unimpressed. “Where are you from again?” 

“The Southern Isles,” said Hans. 

“Isn’t that really far away?” 

“Two boats, and maybe another eighteen hours by horse-carriage,” said Hans, whose butt remembered all of those eighteen hours. “I guess it’s pretty far.” 

“And you’re here so you can rescue the Queen and marry her,” Kristoff said. “Have you ever even _met_ Queen Elsa?” 

Hans shrugged. “I haven’t, not officially. And she’s not Queen yet.”

“Same difference.” 

“Actually, no it’s not,” Hans said, just a touch sourly. It suited his purposes that she wasn’t, but it still didn’t seem fair to Hans that he had to go through so much trouble. “Trust me, I’d know.” 

“What if you don’t like her?” said Kristoff. “I mean, no one in Arendelle’s seen her for years. Not since the King and Queen went -” he snapped his fingers for effect. “What if she’s super ugly, or a dwarf, or what if she doesn’t like you?” 

“I’ve at least seen what she looks like,” Hans hedged. “She’s not -” and then he thought better of it. “Look, why are we even talking about this?” 

“No idea,” Kristoff said, and now he looked relieved. From the small fur pouch clipped at his belt, he extracted a small lump of something brown. “Want something to eat?” 

Hans stared at it and was too polite to say what he thought it looked like. It certainly didn't look like food. Finally, he settled for: “What’s that?” 

“It’s jerky. Common people food, I guess you’d call it.” Kristoff stuck his hand out, proffering some of the dried meat. “Still, it won’t kill you.” 

Maybe not, but it did look pretty unappetizing. But Hans’s stomach didn’t seem to agree and let loose a loud growl. The growl was so loud, it even startled Sven, Kristoff’s reindeer who was napping contentedly nearby. 

“Whoa boy,” said Kristoff with a click of his tongue. “Easy, it’s just him again.” 

The reindeer gave Hans a bit of a look. It was the sort of look that might have done Hans’s fragile ego in if it’d come from a human being - wait a minute. 

Hans ignored the look and ate some jerky. It was hard to chew but strangely sweet. He had to admit it wasn’t bad. 

“So…” said Kristoff, craning his neck at an unnatural angle so that he could look at Hans. Hans, who was, for the moment, was upside down and not happy about it. But looking at the netting that held him in place, Kristoff thought the prince was in no danger of falling and hitting his head on a gnarled tree root or something obscured by fresh snow. 

“Why is there a _bear net_ here?” 

“Well,” Kristoff said, righting his head again so he didn’t get a crick in his neck. “It’s bear season. Kind of, was. But they’ve probably all gone back to sleep.” 

Somewhere, there was a sharp howling noise. It didn’t sound all that far away, which was maybe a bad thing. Kristoff felt Sven nudging him insistently in the small of his back. 

“Oh,” said Hans. “That’s great that there are no bears around. Can you get me down now? Please? The wind’s really loud from up here. Must be the trees.” 

“Um,” said Kristoff, exchanging a look with Sven. It seemed like they were both in agreement about keeping Hans in the dark, for now. “Sure, trees. Hold still.” 

“ - Why didn’t tell me that there were _wolves_?” Hans griped. Or he was trying to gripe. It was a little difficult to gripe when he was grabbing Kristoff by the belt and dangling about fifty feet off the edge of a cliff quickly crumbling away. 

“Because wolves show up where there’s snow! It’s like a fact of life. How do you not know this?” Kristoff glanced down at him. “Could you try not to pull down my pants?”

“I don’t know,” said Hans. “I’m trying not to die. Your pants aren’t my top priority. We don’t have wolves, or snow down south.” 

“Really?” 

“I think I saw one at the zoo once,” Hans had to think. “One of my brothers threatened to feed me to the wolf. I think I ended up in the pen and the wolf didn’t even bother chasing me around. It was probably too hot.” 

“Yikes,” said Kristoff. “ - Sven! How’s it going up there, buddy?” 

To Hans’s relief, Sven’s antlers and the rest of him reappeared, he had a rope in his mouth and gave Hans a baleful look before looking towards his owner again. 

“Yes, him first.” Kristoff stared down his reindeer and Sven made a displeased noise before tossing the rope down. “You have to let go of me now, Your Majesty. Sven will pull you up.” 

The storm was getting worse. Kristoff thought about gathering enough dry wood to make a fire, but in the end, the best he could do was scout out a bear den that smelled abandoned. 

“I thought you said all the bears would go back to sleep,” said Hans. He wasn’t sure which was more off-putting, the smell, or the possibility of bears. There weren’t many bears in the Southern Isles either, but sometimes his brothers would go to the mainland and join in large hunting parties. 

“Or maybe they can’t,” Kristoff told him. “They were only just sleeping. Anyway, I don’t think they’ll be back. Don’t be such a prince, all right?” 

“I’m -” Hans started and then thought better of it. He stepped inside the den and sat in the least offensive patch of ground he could find and sneezed. Once, twice, three times. He seemed to have lost a glove in the excitement too. He tried to put his bare hand in his pocket, but the inside lining was damp. 

“Come here,” said Kristoff from further inside the den, where the smell was nearly overpowering. 

“Why?” 

“It’s better if we stick close. Sven can keep us both warm. Besides, you’re still too close to the storm where you are,” Kristoff said. “You might freeze to death. Dead people can’t be King.” 

That last bit made a lot of sense to Hans, who was clinging to the hope that he could be King. No, it wasn’t good enough that he could be. He was going to be. And for that, he couldn’t be dead. Hans armed himself with that knowledge, that awesome great future, and ventured in deeper in the den. 

He nearly jumped when a strong grip nabbed him by the elbow. 

“Relax, just me.” 

“I can’t see anything,” said Hans. 

“Sven smells you; he says you smell like the sea.” Kristoff guided him over and sat him against something soft and warm. Hans was set to snuggle in until Sven made another unhappy noise. Okay, maybe not. 

“Sven, be nice.” Kristoff admonished, and Hans felt the other man’s weight settle in next to him. His elbow bumped the fist that Hans still kept balled up in his pocket. “Did you lose a glove?” 

“I must have,” Hans said. “But I mean. I’m sorry about your sled. Was it new?” 

Hans heard a series of shuffles nearby, and then felt the unmistakable softness of a glove settle across his knee. “Take mine. And yeah, it was. I just paid it off last week.” 

“Oops,” said Hans. “I’m... sorry. I’ll buy you a new one. A bigger one. Once I’m King.” He took the glove and slipped it on. It still felt a little warm from when Kristoff had been wearing it. 

“Sure.” 

There was something in Kristoff’s voice that immediately rubbed Hans the wrong way. “I would, honest. I’m not a terrible person, you know.” 

“I never said you were,” Kristoff told him. “I just think. Why would you want to be King?” 

The question echoed in the dark. Hans said, “Princes are meant to be Kings.” 

“How many brothers do you have again?” 

“Twelve,” Hans settled his chin on his knees. “So you see my problem.” 

“So maybe you just...do something else,” Kristoff was either missing the point on purpose or he really didn’t get it. “Don’t be King. I don’t know if I can’t even get you all the way up there to that castle.” 

“What are you, volunteering now?” 

Kristoff laughed. It was not a very nice laugh, but it was a sound that was familiar enough to Hans. “I need a new job. Who’s going to buy ice in this weather? Try to get some sleep, Your Majesty.” 

Hans settled in. Kristoff seemed to scoot closer to him in the dark and he could hear the other man breathing. “You don’t get to call me that, Kristoff.” 

“Why not?” 

“‘Your Majesty’ is something you call a King,” Hans said. “As you keep reminding me, I’m not one. Not yet.” But he felt sleepy then, and it didn’t take him too long to nod off. 

“Hello! Hey, I’m talking to you!” 

Hans said, “Maybe we should talk to it.” 

“It’s a snowman,” Kristoff returned. “And it’s talking to us. It’ll go away.” 

“Go where, exactly?” Hans had to look around. The storm the night before had covered everything in pristine white snow and his ankles were buried deep in the stuff every time he took a step. “He’s a _snowman_. This place is covered in snow.” 

“You know I can hear you, right?” said the snowman. “That’s not very polite! Well, Neither is talking too much, I guess, but Elsa says I can work on that because at least I appear friendly!” 

Kristoff said, “Maybe we sniffed something funny in the den.” 

Hans said, “Wait, you know Elsa -” he hastily corrected himself, “sorry, Crown Princess Elsa?” 

The snowman thought about this and raised his stick-for-arms. “She doesn’t call herself Crown Princess Elsa. But yep, I know her. She made me.” 

Hans peered at the snowman with renewed interest. “What do you mean by that?” 

“I mean,” the snowman said very slowly. He made a clicking sound. “She has magical powers and made me exist. But she won’t make it summer again. Says she can’t. So I’ve gone to look for help. I have to go find summer!” 

“But you’re a,” Kristoff started. Hans shushed him. 

“We’ve got summer,” Hans said. “Can you take us to her?” 

It turned out that the snowman even had a name: Olaf. He’d only no experience of summer outside of Elsa’s tales of endless Arendelle sunlight and thought that summer sounded like great fun. Olaf especially wanted to try swimming and tanning by the beach. It was his greatest wish now, to experience it for himself. 

They found another den, this one much closer to the mountains and this time, when Hans sat down with his back against Sven’s fur, the reindeer didn’t make a noise. 

It also turned out snowmen could snore - and loudly. 

“Do you have _any_ idea what you’re doing?” Kristoff said. “I mean, just look at it. It’s a snoring snowman. We don’t have summer. We don’t have anything that resembles summer and we don’t have any clue what kind of strange thing could be holding her hostage up there.” 

“I can tell you’ve never had any imaginary friends growing up,” said Hans. 

“I have Sven,” said Kristoff and patted his reindeer on the head. Sven made a noise and Kristoff added, “That was a compliment, Sven, don’t worry.” 

“And anyway, I’m not afraid. I’m still a Prince of the Southern Isles. I can take anything that comes.” Hans said, although suddenly that didn’t sound half as convincing as it used to. 

It certainly didn’t sound convincing to Kristoff, who was at pains to point out: “I’ve still rescued you how many times, six, now?” 

Hans grumbled into his knee. “You’ve got a terrain advantage. I bet I could take you in a swordfight.” 

“I’d just punch you in the face,” said Kristoff, nudging him good-naturedly in the ribs. “I throw a pretty good punch.” 

“I think you two should just kiss,” mumbled Olaf and both men jumped apart. One of Sven’s antlers almost hit Kristoff across the face. But after a moment, Olaf’s snoring started again and Hans was sure they’d both just imagined it. 

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Kristoff said. “I’m just getting him up there to the castle so he can be King, or something.” He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with a snowman. 

“Uh huh,” said Olaf, who was clinging onto Kristoff’s belt. By the snowman's own estimation, he was great at scaling down mountains (by falling flat on his face and then putting himself back together again. He’d been lucky so far. Going up was another story.) “And how are you going to be King, Hans?” 

This sort of conversation also seemed ill-advised when Hans was trying to concentrate on not looking down. “I’m going to marry Elsa.” 

Olaf twisted his head around and looked down at him. “What if she doesn’t want to marry you?” 

“I,” Hans opened his mouth and then closed it again. “I haven’t even asked her yet.” 

“Oh,” Olaf thought about this and appeared to decide that it wasn’t interesting. He turned his attention back to Kristoff again. “And what do you want to do that you’ll probably never get to?” 

“I’ve been thinking about starting a business,” Kristoff said, reaching to secure the next bit of rope. “You know, one of those adventure tour survival park things. Those always look fun. There’s one in Berlandia, right?” 

Olaf said, “I don’t know where that is. Don’t you have a business?” 

Kristoff gave him a long look. “Olaf, I sell ice.” 

Olaf took a moment and glanced around. “Oh.” 

Kristoff suddenly remembered something and twisted around to look behind him. “Hans, careful on that bit coming up, it’s slip -” 

Hans thought: _crap on a stick._

And then Hans thought: _Oh, hey. I’m not dead._

For the first time in a long time, Hans was aware that even though he was cold, the wind wasn’t on his face, and he didn’t smell the leftovers of a bear’s den, and -

Heck, maybe he was dead.

Somewhere, a voice said, “You’re not dead. But I wouldn’t move around too much. You don’t want to make yourself dizzy.”

Hans opened his eyes, blinked. “ - Elsa? I mean, Crown Princess Elsa?” 

“Just Elsa,” she said. Elsa fetched a chair and planted it by the bed. She sat on it, and Hans was relieved to have confirmation once again that Elsa was indeed a pretty lady and someone who he could live with.

But was that enough?

“Where’s Kristoff?” 

Elsa looked towards the window. “He’s helping Olaf find his nose. They lost it but wanted to get you somewhere safe, first.” 

“Oh,” Hans closed his eyes again. Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming urge to go to sleep but forced himself to stay awake. “Listen, we can still get out of here. If you give me a minute, I’ll -” 

Now it was Elsa’s turn to blink at him. “What are you talking about?” 

“Whoever’s trapped you here, they’re not here now, right? It’s why you’ve sent Olaf down to find help.” Hans said. “Well, I’m here now.” 

Elsa laughed. She held out her hands, and Hans found it odd she wasn’t wearing gloves. Perfect needles of glass formed right above her bare skin and Hans suddenly found himself going a bit cross-eyed. He hoped that the shards would not come any closer and let out a relieved sigh when they all dropped to the floor.

Elsa sighed, “Do I look like I need rescuing to you?” 

Hans inhaled. “Yes. No. Not really. Sort of.” 

Elsa said nothing. 

“You’ve run away. Do you really want to be stuck here all by yourself?” 

“You’re by yourself too,” Elsa pointed out. “Are you going to suggest something stupid like us getting married? People keep climbing up here to ask me that. What do you think I tell them?” 

“I’m not by myself,” said Hans, and realized it was true all along. “Kristoff’s with me. And as long as we’re here you’re not alone, either.” 

“So,” Kristoff prompted. He was standing outside Elsa’s castle deep in thought. It wasn’t until Hans touched him on the shoulder that the other man realized he was there. “Are you King yet?” 

“Nope,” Hans said. “She shot me down.” 

Kristoff didn't look at him. “Good. She probably deserves better than you.” 

“Probably.” He could see this time, how Kristoff had a point. “About Berlandia. I’ve been to that park.” 

“Have you?” Now Kristoff regarded him with some interest. 

“My brother stranded me on one of the rides. Before that happened I think I was mostly bored. That's not too good, is it?” Hans told him. “So you know, it’s nothing to write home about. I think you could do much better.” 

“Kiss!” Olaf shouted. They both looked towards the voice and were surprised to find the snowman dangling perilously from Sven’s antlers. “Sven wants you to, too!” 

And so they did.

* * *

The group from the Southern Isles were late for their tour and still stampeded up to the front desk like they owned the place. They spoke very loudly and made sure that Kristoff knew they were Princes, and not fake ones, either. They were here for a good time and the owner had better deliver.

“Of course,” said Kristoff, smiling the sort of smile he reserved for guests that he didn't particularly like. “Our Sled Race of Doom comes highly recommended. Let me just go get you the contracts.”

"Actually, I've got them here," Hans said, stepping up to the front desk. He bumped Kristoff's elbow quite by accident. He held out the papers towards his brothers and smiled at them. "Hello, I'm Hans. I'm going to be your guide today..."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] And a Real Hero](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20664392) by [sisi_rambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisi_rambles/pseuds/sisi_rambles)


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